Mermaids, Sea Serpents and Storms
by LyriumLove
Summary: Captain Adora Graysen has brought a storm to Nassau. Will she herself survive it? This is a tale of a pirate woman trying to break an old stereotype and make her way in the world. Can Nassau accept her? Can she keep her head above water? AU set after season 1. Rated M for sexual themes and violence. Other than intro, set from Adora's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**"Mermaids, Serpents and Storms"**

_By LyriumLove_

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**Author's Note:** Hullo lovelies! Welcome to my very AU fic, set after Season 1 of Black Sails. I do not own any Black Sails or Starz content, I just play here. Thank you and please enjoy, leave a review? Rum all around! xoxo

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**Chapter One: A Newcomer in Nassau**

The waves lashed against the shore with violence and need; breaking against the rocks. The dark water caressed the beach, and then turned to raking the rocks with stormy, long fingers. It was a storm unlike any other that Nassau had seen.

The huricane had come without warning. It had begun with a light rain that had swiftly careened into a screaming storm, battering Nassau with hour after hour of brutal rain, wind and lightning.

Everything on the beach was washed away first. Camps, rowboats, everything. Poorly made houses on the outskirts of town were shredded; the opium addict dens were either swallowed or washed away. Roofs were blown away. Even the opium addicts camps were tossed from their hidey holes, the people drowned and drawn out to sea.

When the rain and howling winds had finally ceased; the devastation was clear. The wreckage lay bare on the skeleton beach; Nassau's inhabitants slowly began to creep from their homes to survey everything.

The sky was still cloudy, but the clouds were deflated; thin splotches on the sky, exhausted from their violent efforts. The colours were what seemed to give hope back to the island. Although the sky was still quite dark; muted patches burst through where the sun shone. Turquoise bled into pale blues, a lazy orange spread slowly into reds and yellows. The wind was steady; but soft, almost as if to apologize for the beating it had administered.

Bodies, boats and more littered the main beach. People began to help drag the bodies to pile and burn. Some were scavenging for valuables. Many of the pirates cursed as they tried to salvage the day.

A shout went up suddenly, breaking the somber silence on the shore. On the horizon, almost propelled by the light that was spreading after the storm, was a ship.

A great galleon, bronze and golden. It moved quicker than a ship of that size should. The harbor broke into excited chatter. Nassau had fallen onto hard times as of late, no more than today especially. Seeing such a great ship moving easily through the water, banishing the darkness and most importantly after the storm, brought hope, superstition and curiousity.

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Nassau had undergone quite a few changes the past few years. Mr. Guthrie had returned to Boston, to a life of politics and begging at his father's feet. With him, Mrs. Barlow had gone, after the death of Captain Flint. She had gotten with child, even in her late age. She'd begged Flint to stop, to move her and their unborn child away from the chaos. But Flint loved the sea more than the books or the woman. His refusal had crushed her and she nearly died from grief alone.

Surprisingly, Guthrie reversed the tables, in turn nursing her back to health. She recovered, in time to give birth to a healthy daughter. Guthrie claimed the child as his own, intent on not making the same mistakes with this child; as he had with Eleanor. They married quietly before the babe was born and when both child and mother were able, took passage to Boston. Guthrie, somehow, managed to earn forgiveness and a pardon for Nassau's misdeeds. For all they'd been through, the new couple was relieved to retire to a quiet life of mutual respect and companionship.

The others had not all fared as well. After Gates' death and Billy Bones return to Nassau, they all seemed to become hard men. Bones challenged Flint to swords on Nassau's beach, easily winning. As he thrust his sword into Flint's chest, he screamed out Flint's treachery for all to hear.

The crew of the _Walrus_ that had survived the attack on the _Urca de Lima_ was more than happy to come together under Billy as their Captain. With Flint's share they purchased a new boat, the _Triumph_. It had belonged to a rich merchant who was liquidating his fleet for some reason or another. Billy managed to purchase it quite cheaply and it was brought to Nassau to be outfitted properly.

Jack seemed to have fallen out with nearly everyone. Not only were Vane and his men watching Jack's every move, he and Bonny had fallen out of sorts. Jack's ambivalence to the beatings and raping of whores, namely Max, deeply unsettled Anne. They drifted apart until Jack announced he would be leaving the brothel. As a last ditch effort at sentiment, he gave Bonny his share of ownership in the brothel.

Bonny and Max had struck an accord over time, a slow, mutual respect that seemed determined to develop into more, despite both women's negative views on love. But Max would not make the same mistakes she had with Eleanor, no, Max would always love herself first...always.

Bonny, in turn, had given Jack's job and stake in the brothel to Max. Bonny had no desire to actually run the brothel. She provided her services as a bouncer, instead. Max had reinstated Mrs. Mapleton, on the condition she not attempt to cheat the books again. The brothel and its whores were kept clean and more orderly than ever, thanks to Max. Profits were up, too. Max was satisfied...but not content.

Silver had gone from thief to liar to cook to Captain in bounds. The _Stingray_ belonged to him now, a small ship purchased from some dead Captain. Jack became his quartermaster. The crew was wary but enthusiastic about their Captain, who seemed to have the luck of the gods on his side. After all, he had helped to make them rich, thus far.

The _Ranger_'s former Captain, Vane; had disappeared for over a year. He had left men in place to control his assets on the island. When he came back, he did so with a sleek new ship, the _Raven_. She wasn't overly large, but the little dark thing struck terror into the hearts of those who saw her. Charles Vane had become a quiet, brooding Captain, preferring to keep to sea more than land.

Eleanor Guthrie, perhaps, fared worst of all. Worse than death? Exile. Exiled from those she cared for, stripped of her titles and the respect and fear she had once garnered. The island was no longer hers. In a sense, she had nothing left. She was kept as part of the Consortium merely as a figurehead; for her name alone. Everyone knew Captain Horningold was the real power behind Nassau. He managed everything a hundred times better than the Guthries ever had.

Nassau had survived, thanks to Mr. Guthrie. But it wasn't the same. Trade was slow; many merchants would no longer sell to them. But the Navy did not bother them after Guthrie made his deal.

xxxxxxx

The _Artemis_ pulled towards the island, quite a crowd was gathered to see who was at the helm of such an impressive beast and why they were there. Four rowboats set to shore with a dozen and a half of the crew. Eleanor and Horningold awaited them on the beach.

"You missed the storm, obviously, or did you bring it? Welcome to Nassau. Who might I ask is Captain among you?" Eleanor greeted the gaggle of men, who were pirates if she was sure of anything.

The throng of men parted. From within their ranks, stepped a woman. She was short, just a scant few inches over 5 feet. She had long, golden locks swept into a ponytail to the side, underneath a large, preposterous purple hat. The thing was decorated with plumes from some sort of exotic birds, along with pearls and a bit of black lace. She was dressed in calf-high black boots, worn from use, the hides speckled from saltwater. Instead of a skirt, she had black pants that rose high, outlining her shapely body. Her arse and thighs were ample, her waist thin and toned. She had a wide belt perched diagonally on her wide hips, an assortment of weapons hanging from it. Her undershirt was a dark blue, overlaid with a purple silk. It was slashed and embroidered with black thread. The collar flipped up, highlighting her tall, curved neck. Full, mauve lips pursed, matching the coldness in her sapphire eyes.

Captain Adora Graysen stood; hand on her side, sizing up the welcoming crew, as it were. "I'm Captain of the _Artemis_. Adora Graysen...pleasure." A hard, but musical lilt to her voice made it unique and delightful to the ear.

Eleanor Guthrie scoffed out loud and some of the men began to laugh at the thought of a _woman_ on a ship, let alone captaining one.

"Very funny. Now where's your Captain?" Eleanor crossed her arms, glaring at the other woman.

Adora stepped forward, directly in front of her. Several of Nassau's men made for their sword hilts, just in case as they watched the confrontation.

"Pretty little thing, aren't you? Think you're the only one in the world with tits and a cunt who can command men?"

Silence momentarily gripped the crowd. Everyone watched Eleanor's face as it darkened with fury and indignation. Adora merely laughed lightly and stepped back on her heel. The beach erupted in laughter. Eleanor was obviously infuriated and began blustering insults, but Captain Horningold intervened, stepping around and in front of her. He offered his hand to Captain Adora.

"Welcome to Nassau, Captain and crew. That's quite a fair ship you've brought. What brings you here to our island?"

"My crew and I come from the west with a haul of sugar and spices. Thought we'd port here to rest and resupply and see how trade fares."

"Very good, Captain. May I invite you to the tavern to discuss business while some of my men help yours offload?"

As easily as that, Adora had charmed her way into Nassau. She and her crew were welcomed ashore.

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An hour later, Adora had negotiated a fair price with the Consortium for her sugar and some of her spices. The crew began to haul ashore that which they were selling, barrels of salt and sugar, crates of tea leaves and other exotic spices. Adora walked the beach, her pants rolled up and her boots in one hand. She was well pleased with the days' events. Her crew had worked hard and she was glad to give them a break; as well as their share of the profits.

Standing on a little hill, she wriggled her toes in the sand. Dropping her boots to the ground, she sat on a rock to watch her crew unload. They were nearing the last of it when Grimm, her Quartermaster, trudged up the beach to give her a report.

"Captain," he said, tipping his hat to her. "Tidy profit you've secured us. The lads are well pleased, indeed." He sat beside her, offering her a swig of run from his flask.

She took it, grateful for the warm sensation as it poured down her throat to her belly. The beach was quite cold and the wind was picking up.

"Storm brought quite a chill with it. The island lads are complaining it's never this chilly and that there was a fair amount of damage. Some of 'em are scared of you. Think you're a witch and you caused the storm and ensnared us crew." Grimm chuckled deeply, his raspy voice rolling like the waves on the beach. "Calling you Stormbringer, some of 'em are."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Bit of fear doesn't hurt. Keeps them in line. Finish up, Grimm, pay the men and turn them loose. We'll give them a few days, then we're east again, deliver the rest of our goods to our legitimate contact." Both of them laughed quietly at that.

Adora was uniquely lucky. Born the bastard daughter of an English noble lord, in Wales to a lady's maid, she was able to sell legitimately under her father's name, even if on thin ice. Her heart belonged to the sea, to her ship and to her pirate's life.

xxxxxx

Most of the crew wandered by on their way into town to say hello. They were on good terms with their Captain. Old Jim brought her a flask of his special rum, sweetened with dark cane sugar. He was their cook and had been since they boarded the Elizabeth Anne two years ago.

Evening was setting. The horizon prickled with rosy hues, the light dimming on the wrecked beach. Most of the bodies had been placed on pyres to burn. The smell of charred flesh and death permeated the air.

Gnarled Lars, one of her burliest crew members, brought her tent and bag to her. Though she was a woman, she was tough. She didn't allow any of the men to do mundane tasks like setting up her tent for her. Adora had been the bastard of a lady's maid, she knew about self-preservation.

"The men settling in nicely? No trouble?" She stood, pulling the tent's canvas out and shaking it.

"Mhhm, whorehouse is a sight. They've got a midget woman and two _men_ for whores in with the cunny." Lars laughed. He stood, fingers like massive sausages, looped through his belt hooks.

"That's smart, Lars. Women need to be serviced too and not just with the fingers of a whore." Adora spoke plainly as she always did with her men.

"Hmph."

"No stranger than a woman as captain," she protested.

"Just cause we all know better, I'd say you had a cock, Captain." Lars shook his head and stalked off towards town.

Early after acquiring the _Artemis_ , the men chafed under her rule. Many believed she was simply a feminine man in drag. She'd promptly called a meeting, then to everyone's shock, stripped to prove to her crew that she was indeed a woman. That night one of the crew had tried to force himself on her. She'd beaten him to death with his own sword, then strung him up by his balls in the rigging as a warning for all who might harbor desire for their Captain.

Some did, though. They regularly tried to seduce her or impress her. It amused her, but she would not take her own crew to bed. It was a rule. One that had served her well.

xxxxxxxxx

Once her tent was up and a cheery campfire blazing, she headed, barefoot again; to the tide pools on the far side of the shore to look for crabs. Remembering the storm, she brought a sack for goods, too. Her feet were tough enough to handle the slippery, sharp rocks. The moon was bright, her eyes adjusted well in the darkness. The tide pools were far from the town, the lights twinkled in the distance.

Slipping quietly around a turn, she grinned wickedly when the moonlight glinted off a crab's shell. As she collected four nice sized crabs, she looked for other things. She happened upon a small, damaged black bag, caught on a rock. It was tied and had a wax seal still somewhat intact. When she tugged it off the rock, three black pearls fell out of it. Smiling at her fortune, she continued to search for treasure, washed up from the storm. Ten minutes later and her sack was fit to bursting.

Enjoying the quiet night too much, she climbed up a rock jutting out of the sea water. She set her sack of crabs and plunder aside and pulled a flute from her vest. It was a smooth, wooden flute. It was sleek with years of use, carved with dragons and fire. She began a slow, mournful tune, the notes wafting on the sea air. She played beautifully, one of the few noble skills she'd cared to possess.

Halfway through her second song, she stopped abruptly. Grinning, she said, "Any further and I'll put away my flute for a blade."

The intruders swore, changing their course across the rocks. She turned about a little more on her rock, to see their shadows better. She took her flute in one hand, picking her tune back up, twirling her blade in the other. The moonlight glinted off the shiny steel.

"You a mermaid, then?" Sending sweet song out to lure sailors to their deaths?" The voice was deep, husky. It had a unique tone that pleased her.

Adora set down her knife and flute. "I can swim better than most mermaids, sir. Care to step into the moonlight and introduce yourselves?"

The shadowy figure, whence the voice came from was tall. He was beautiful, even in the dark. Something about his eyes and body made her blush with want. She turned to gaze upon the second figure, a shorter man with an odd haircut. He seemed to be either a hostage of the darker man or following unwillingly. When he stepped all the way into the light, she laughed and sprung off the rocks.

"Cousin Jack! How the fuck are you?" Adora snatched up her stunned cousin in a fast hug. He was less than pleased. "What the fuck did you do to your hair?"

"Adora!?" Jack cried incredulously. "What the hell..."

"She's your cousin?" came the rich voice.

"'Twas your dad who told me about this place, Jackey boy. Let me look at you. It's been too long." She hated to ignore the other man, who was so lovely to look upon, but she was thrilled to see her kin.

"Figures," Jack said, swearing. "And don't call me that, or..."

"Or what? I'll kick your ass like usual?" She laughed, her voice as melodious as her flute's music.

"Fuck you," Jack yelled and stomped ass as best as he could on the slick rocks.

"Not too far," growled the other man lowly.

Adora turned her attentions to him now. His skin was a wonderful bronze colour, his hair an almond brown. He had scars on his face and one peeking out from his open shirt. Just from looking at him, she could tell he was a Captain, like her. He was all mystery and intrigue.

"What are you doing out here all alone, mermaid?" He crossed his arms, eyeing her suspiciously.

Looking up coyly trough her lashes, she stepped closer to him. "How do you know I'm not a sea serpent come to swallow you up instead," she whispered, leaning close to him. His smell was an intoxicating mix of leather, rum and sweat. She made sure that as she spoke, her breath passed over his neck.

At his sharp intake of breath, she smiled triumphantly. Stepping back quickly, she waved the dagger she'd stolen off his belt at him. The quick change in his expression was priceless.

"Hey! You thieving bitch," he cried.

"Catch me if you can," she teased, dashing off. She left her things, giggling madly.

It didn't matter that she didn't know the beach, she was sure on her feet. She was light and although shoeless, she could move much faster than the tall man behind her. She quickly lost him, scrambling around a corner in the tall rocks, wriggling into a crevice to wait.

She could hear him slip, go down and yell in pain. Stifling a laugh, she waited, watching. The cliffs rose up, forming a narrow semi-circle with two small entrances. The mysterious man burst into the clearing, looking around wildly. Adora slipped from her hiding spot.

"My, but you're slow for a pirate, sir." She waved his knife at him.

He spun around, bellowing in rage. he grabbed for her once, twice as she laughed and spun about in the sand away from him. Finally, she let him catch her.

He grabbed his knife first, putting it away on his belt. She had her hands on her hips, laughing at him. The other captain grabbed her, slamming her against the cliff wall behind her. He shook her violently, yelling.

"You're so forward, you've not even told me your name," she said, still in a teasing voice. She enjoyed how infuriating she was being.

Adora pushed against his frame with her hands and back, scooting herself up the wall with her back to pull her legs up and around his waist in a quick, fluid motion. Utterly surprised and still furious, he tried to slap her. Catching his hand at the last second, she turned it over. He was bleeding from a cut, probably from trying to catch himself on the rocks.

"You're bleeding sir," she said silkily, flicking her tongue out to catch the blood. She let her tongue drag across his palm slowly. He shuddered, predictably and pushed her further against the wall. He made to kiss her but she turned at the last moment. His face was in her hair, his breath was hot and ragged. He growled impatiently, tightening his grip on her waist. She was playing a dangerous game, she knew, but was enjoying it too much. It had been far too long since she had met a man who could entice her thus.

"Your name, if you please," she whispered against his shoulder.

"Charles Vane. Captain Vane," he said back. "And you? be you mermaid or sea serpent, what do I call you?"

Charles let his own tongue trail up her neck. It was her turn to shudder. She hadn't meant to seduce him completely, to let him ravish her but she was undone. She had been too long at sea without satisfaction and this man was a gorgeous beast. She tightened her legs around his waist.

"Captain! Where are you?" Jack shouted and then skidded into the small clearing. His jaw was agape.

Charles turned his face to him, keeping his torso towards Adora. "Did you find the pearls? he snarled.

Jack was trying to stammer a reply.

Adora squirmed down from Charles' grip. "Pearls? Black ones? I found some with a torn velvet bag in the tide pools. The bag looked a bit old."

Both men looked at her in surprise. It was obvious why her cousin was with Captain Vane now.

"Come on then, boys," she said, winking at Charles before heading back.

"She's dangerous, Chaz. She's nothing like Eleanor, however golden-haired she may be. She isn't one to be tamed, she's a crazy fucking storm that will leave you crushed on the rocks." Jack resorted to using Charles' nickname in an attempt to get the man to reason. "You have no idea what she is. You don't want to get swept up into that current, you'll drown in no time like all the others," he said ominously.


	2. Chapter 2: Dangerous Games

**Author's Note**: _Been a while, I know lovelies. Sorry. I have been dealing with a very distressful personal situation. I've been grieving and unable to write a single thoughtful sentence. I apologize. Things are somewhat calm now and I hope to get all my stories updated and get back to writing and beta-reading full time. I missed you all!_

_As for this story, I've gotten quite a few messages and reviews. This is very AU, please understand. I'm a history buff, yes, but it's not going to follow history nor the show. This is my own interpretation or fantastical rendering of what happened after season 1. If you don't like it, walk the plank, mate. :)_

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**Chapter Two: Dangerous Games**

It was a quiet night on the strange beach; after the storm. Adora sat in front of her tent, sifting sand with her fingers and watching the flames flicker and fight with one another for dominance. The little fire crackled and hissed, cheerfully so; but the Captain's thoughts were dark.

She'd taken Charles and Cousin Jack back to the tide pool where she'd found the pearls. As enthralled as she was with Charles Vane; when he threatened Jack if the other pirate didn't find the rest of the pearls, she'd stepped in to intervene on Jack's behalf. She would likely not forget the dark and malicious look Charles gave her. Still...she'd given him the pearls and pouch she had found and watched him walk away.

"I didn't need your fucking help, Adora," Jack had snapped at her. She'd promptly shoved him to the sand as if they were still ten year old kids playing on the beach.

"Of course you did, maggot. You always have. We're bastards. Bastards stick together."

Adora and Jack had grown up together, mostly, raised by Jack's mother who was a distant relative of Adora's mother. Adora's mother had died giving birth to her and her father had been so angry and heartbroken that he'd sent her away. Jack and Adora were close in age, so much so that they had shared a wet nurse. They had been close as children, but fought constantly. It seemed that their fighting would not change, even now.

With that, she had taken herself back off to the other side of the beach and her makeshift camp. It didn't seem as though many people were camping on the beach. There were still great ruts in the sand from the storm. On the west side of the island, an entire ship had been smashed into the rocks.

Adora brooded as she waited for the crabs to finish baking. She'd cleaned them, and then stuffed them with seaweed and garlic. It was quite handy, she thought, hauling spices, to be sure. She'd put the crabs in a little earthenware pot and nestled them in the coals of the fire to cook. They smelled delicious. Her mind wasn't on her dinner, though, it was on Captain Vane. She could still feel his hot tongue sliding up her neck; the thought of it made her shudder with want as she gazed at the fire.

She'd been stupid to taunt a man like that, however. He was twice her size and would very likely have just raped her if she hadn't given him what he wanted. Oh but she did want _him_. She was completely consumed with thoughts of seducing him. She'd considered going into town and seeing what the brothel had but she knew most of her crew would there.

Glowering, she took a stick and stirred the coals around the pot. While her food was finishing, she pulled her treasure sack to her and sorted through it. There was some silver, a knife, a few bits of cutlery and various other odds and ends. Nothing of great value, but enough to fetch a tidy sum. She decided to sell it at their next port.

Later, after she'd eaten her fill and given the rest to a stray dog roaming the beach, she'd settled into her tent. The wind was indeed chilly. She shivered under her covers, sipping on her sugared rum. Her knife and dagger were both within reach, one tucked just under her head. "I could keep myself warm if I had a certain Captain in my tent," she groused to no one but the wind. She took several more swigs from the flask, more than she really should have. "Charles," she whispered sleepily, testing the name on her heavy tongue. The sound of it made her smile drowsily.

"No, not Charles but you can scream out whatever you want while I'm fucking you."

The intruder had caught her off guard. She was drunk and hadn't heard him approach. Too drunk. He made to grab her hair. She tried to roll away, but he caught her arm, twisting it painfully and digging his heavy fingers into her flesh. The man was short but pudgy and at least twice her weight, if not thrice. It was too dark and she was too drunk to make out much more than that in her panic. He stank of stale spirits and piss, overwhelmingly so. She brought her leg up and kicked his knee out from under him. Unfortunately, in her inebriated state she'd miscalculated and he'd fallen onto her, pinning her down. He grunted, trying to roll on top of her as she yelled curses at him while trying to free herself. Only one arm to work with, she desperately searched for a knife! She could feel him pulling on her pants and began to feel anger taking over the panic. He was heavy but she was small and clever. Finally, her fingers met cold steel. She grasped the dagger, turned her face away and brought the blade down into the man's abdomen. Slick, sharp metal met soft, pudgy flesh. She could feel his skin give way and the hot blood gush out. The bastard howled in pain, rolling away from her and releasing her.

Struggling up, she spat in the man's face as he tried to crawl away from her.

"Out! Out of my tent, you filthy bastard!" She screamed in fury at him. He was too heavy to move herself if she killed him in her tent.

The would-be rapist was sobbing and begging her not to kill him. He crawled on grimy, blood-soaked hands and knees out of her tent. She sprang on him, pulling his head back by his greasy hair and pulled the blade hard across his throat. Her anger had dispelled the liquor and she was enraged. As the man chocked on his own blood, she pressed his face by the back of his head into the hot coals, relishing every muffled scream of horror and agony until his body was still.

Standing, chest heaving, she shuddered in the cold. The rest of the night until dawn, she spent in the freezing cold, scrubbing the blood from her things and from herself.

Being a woman was hard enough, these days, but Adora made her situation even more precarious by commanding a ship and taking on a role most men thought no woman could or should have. _I'm sure my beauty and sharp tongue don't help either_. It was frustrating to be a woman in such a man's world. She had worked hard to get where she was. Unlike most women around her, she hadn't been handed everything in life. She didn't see why men should make all the rules just because they had cocks.

It was late morning when Gnarled Lars stopped by to check on his Captain. He frowned at the gruesome sight of the dead man sprawled half into the fire, blood everywhere. Lars crossed his arms and looked at Adora.

She was perched on an upturned half of a rowboat washed in from the storm, happily eating a pineapple, the stray dog from last night at her feet.

"We're in port one damn day, barely at that and you're killing people. How the fuck do you think this is going to go down!?" Lars didn't take an offensive tone towards her, but sounded mildly exasperated and a touch amused.

"He tried to rape me, Lars. What did you expect me to do, lay there and let him!?" Adora rarely shouted, but she was exhausted and sick of being judged for actions she knew were just. She certainly wasn't going to brook questions from her own crew.

"Sorry Captain. It's just...the crew's going to be hostile towards the islanders now, knowing you got attacked. And it won't help trade negotiations."

"Let's go see who this asshole belongs to then," she said irritably, hopping down from the boat and kicking the corpse on her way past the tent.

The dog followed, seemingly intent on staying with her. It was a bit mangy, white and black fur all matted. The poor thing was quite large but underfed and so its skin hung.

"You going to keep this filthy...shall I have the boys bathe him?" Lars asked, resigned, after the look she shot him.

"Yes. Find him some meat, too. Pineapple's not a good meal for a big dog like him."

They'd had a dog on board, once before, and a cat too. The dog had died of old age and the cat had run off at a port. The crew had loved them though, so she thought the dog might be a welcome addition.

xxxx

"How are we to trust the word of this bitch!?" Billy Bones was shouting.

Apparently, the dead man was one of Captain Bones'. Tom Barb. Adora didn't give a fuck who the scum belonged to or what his position was or how much the Captain was respected. She was in the right.

Horningold sighed. "Alright, everyone! Settle down. Captain Graysen, please give me a few moments with Captain Bones."

Furious, she shoved out of the room, knocking into Eleanor, who looked disheveled and displeased.

"Am I late? What did I miss? I was...engaged last night and slept late." Eleanor was tying up her hair and behind her, up on the balcony, looking disheveled as well, was Charles Vane.

Forcing herself to remain calm, Adora smiled sweetly at Eleanor. "I can see why Horningold removed you from your position. Missing meetings to be a lazy whore does no politics nor our sex any good."

Holding in her laughter at Eleanor's shocked and offended face, Adora took off for the tavern's main bar. She was enjoying the moment so much that she didn't see Charles heading her way. He grabbed her arm, lightly, but where the now dead man had grabbed her. The dark, bruised skin protested painfully at his grip.

"Oww!" she cried, pulling away. She yanked up her sleeve to inspect the wound.

"What the fuck happened?" Charles asked.

He made to touch her arm again. Adora winced but Charles ran a calloused thumb over the blue-black wound carefully. She looked up at him, fighting the urge to let tears spring to her eyes. She was no weak and pitiful woman, she did _not_ need to be rescued! She hated the fleeting emotion for even daring to rise in her. She'd never needed a man to rescue her and she'd be damned if she'd start now.

"One of Billy Bones' men tried to force himself on me last night in my tent," she grumbled.

Charles pulled her sleeve down and led her to a table. He ordered ale and bread for them. Adora was adjusting the sleeve on her shirt. It was still slightly damp from washing it in the cold seawater.

"If you hadn't been sleeping alone in a tent, that wouldn't have happened, stubborn wench." The cocky man sat back, spinning a coin on the table and eyeing her.

Adora glared back. "I always sleep alone. I took care of myself fine, the bastard's dead. Besides, you seem to have found plenty of company for the evening," she retorted.

Charles just laughed and shook his head. The tavern wench set their mugs and bread down.

"See, that's the problem with you women. Temperamental when you're jealous."He took another sip of his drink, flicking his tongue out to catch a wayward drop.

Adora nearly spat out her own drink in anger. "Jealous!? I'm not jealous! You are full of yourself, Captain!"

Charles stood, laughing still. He stopped the silver piece he was spinning, leaving it on the table for the food and drink. He leaned down, his lips at her ear. "Oh no? Who did you think of, in your cold tent to keep you warm last night?" And with that, he took his mug and strode off.

Seething, Adora fought to regain her composure. He was right, but she wouldn't admit it, not even to herself.

"Cap'n? They're ready for you," Grimm said timidly.

Carefully, she stood, her head held high and strode into the meeting room, her blood still boiling; both from rage and desire...

xxxxx

The shouting and arguing had gone on for over an hour. Bones was demanding blood money for Tom Barb, who was apparently, or had been, his cook. Adora had refused, infuriated that she was being asked to pay for killing a man who had tried to rape her.

Naturally, Eleanor had sided with Bones. The two women had eyed each other viciously and Adora's opinion of the other woman degraded significantly when she realized that Eleanor would allow her pride to get in the way of standing up for a woman's rights. The wild care in the whole ordeal, surprisingly, had been Vane, who as a Captain had the right to attend and vote in any hearing of the Consortium. He had sat quietly through most of the bickering, but had cast his vote in Adora's favour. Had she not been so incensed over the principality of it all, she would have been stunned.

In the end, a compromise of sorts was reached. Adora was forbidden to sleep alone on the beach without one of her men to guard her and was also required to give Bones one of their roasting pigs. Bones would swear off the grudge and advise his crew to do the same.

Feeling defeated, Adora walked out of the meeting. She was hoping to catch Charles for a word, but he'd slipped away. She was quietly conferring with Grimm and Lars when she noticed Eleanor come out of the meeting room and immediately be accosted by a beautiful woman with dark skin in a pale blue gown.

"Once again, you prove how heartless you. You care for nothing but politics and money, Eleanor."

The woman glided past Eleanor and stopped directly in front of Adora. She held her small, smooth hand out.

"Max. It's a pleasure, Captain. The island is abuzz with word of you. I'm sorry to hear about what happened to you. I wish I could say it's not a frequent occurrence in Nassau, but I know otherwise. I'm glad to see another woman standing up for us. Should you need anything, please visit me at the brothel; I am one of the proprietors." Just like that, she was gone in a swirl of soft silks and harsh words.

Too shocked to say much more than thank you, Adora stood bewildered. Turning, she saw Eleanor, who had a mixture of hurt and pure anger registered on her face. Adora knew then she'd made an enemy for life, willingly or no. And a potentially dangerous one at that.


	3. Chapter 3: Land Locked

_Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long, lovelies. In short, depression has taken a heavy toll on my writing. Here is the next chapter. I don't know why I type these up at such ungodly hours, they're always rife with grammatical errors when I do. If you notice any, please do drop me a line. Also, the ports I use in the beginning, no fu**ing idea if that is historically correct. It's 2am, sue me. I'll fix them at some point. This is an AU fic and if we have to use made up ports, so be it lords and ladies. Anywho, enjoy and please do leave a review. xoxo_

Chapter Three: Land Locked

* * *

The wind danced through the sails, sending them into a lazy ripple. The Caribbean Sea was moving slowly, too, which was just fine with Adora. She smiled slightly, at the horizon, leaning against the rigging she had climbed into. She gripped the rope, it was rough and the small hairs from it pricked at her hands. Her hands were by no means smooth; they were toughened from years on the sea.

They would make landfall by night and they were early, too. The _Artemis_ and her crew had delivered the rest of their spices to Tobago after leaving Nassau and were now heading to the port of San Fernando. One of Adora's contacts, a man who had been in business with her father, was selling Spanish wines. Adora intended to buy as much as she could to sell and then make a profit from them. She was glad they were arriving to port early, so that no other captain could make an attempt on buying the spirits.

The sun was just beginning to set when she heard Rake shout, "Land, ho!" from the crow's nest. The warm winds passed over her face and she strained her eyes to look at the land. A few ships were harbored already, none that she recognized, nor none that posed any threat to her. They were landing soon. Adora was to secure a shipment of silks as well, legitimately, per say, in addition to the wine.

She was to meet with Sir Antony Gallo, a contact of her father's, to procure the silks. He was supposedly taking a holiday here with his family, but conducting business on the side. Adora mused it was likely his wife knew nothing of the trades, nor Gallo's constant affairs.

Taking a deep breath, Adora inhaled the sweet scent of the salty air. The sea was her home. She was more comfortable on her boat that she'd ever be on land. So she wanted a few more gulps of the clean, sweet air before the made landfall and the stench of town filled her nostrils. She hated land.

An hour later, they'd docked. There were so many people milling around you couldn't count them all. Her crew was excited but Adora was vexed. Crowds gave her a headache. She pondered vaguely if some sort of festival was afoot as they tied up.

She barked out orders in her strong, clear voice, as she headed down the length of the ship to disembark. Her crew was in full motion when she heard his voice. Adora whipped her head to the left as she was in midair, jumping to the dock below the ship. She nearly lost her balance as her boots made contact with the wood.

Gnarled Lars, who had already jumped down, looked at her queerly. She was sidetracked, trying to adjust her hat as she scanned the crowd. _Charles_. She'd recognize his deep, distinctive voice anywhere. Lars was speaking to her but she wasn't listening. Her blue eyes were busy searching the throngs of pirates and merchantmen.

"Captain?"

Adora squinted, breaking her concentration. She cursed roundly. She'd missed everything her second in command had said to her. Grimm walked up beside Lars, also looking perplexed at her odd behaviour.

"Everything all right, Captain?" another voice asked. The voice was nasally, high pitched.

"Yes, of course, Sir Antony," Adora recovered smoothly, turning to flash one of her brightest smiles at him.

The sot was obviously easily charmed; grinning at her recognition of his voice like a fool. He'd been besotted with her at their last meeting, though he had a new wife. Adora laughed, suspecting that was why he'd agreed to trade with her to begin with.

"Still working your pretty fingers to the bone on those rough waters, I see. You should really retire from all that and allow a man to take care of you and your ship. Marriage suits women much better than power." The merchant smirked at her, a sick, egotistic grin that instantly infuriated her.

Grimm gripped her elbow instinctively, before she could do more than contemplate drawing one of her many blades on this puffed up aristocrat. Grimm squeezed her painfully on purpose, to draw her back. Adora felt her rage begin to boil, a hot fire searing her insides. _I can run a ship better than any man! I'll be damned if..._

"This one doesn't take well to taming, Antony," came a low, silky voice from behind her.

Charles Vane brushed past her to stop in front of Sir Antony and shake his hand. Adora was torn between shock at seeing Charles, amusement at Sir Antony's face and the irresistible pull of desire she felt whenever she was near the other Captain.

Sir Antony was blustering; his face as red as the day was long. Lars had walked off to keep from laughing and all she could do was fume at Charles.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?" she spat at Charles, forgetting herself completely.

"Miss Graysen! You've been away from civilization too long. The sea has certainly made your tongue quite rough!" Sir Antony exclaimed. "I shall meet you at my counting house, where I do hope you'll behave better, as befits your lower sex." The man turned on his feel as strode away, looking for all the world like an offended peacock with a train of servants in his wake.

Chuckling, Charles leaned over on one heel towards her.

"Aww, don't take it to heart, Captain. We both know your tongue is..._soft_," Vane whispered, too close to her.

Still laughing, he bounced off his heel away from her and strutted away. She could hear his deep amusement.

Infuriated and turned on all the same, Adora had no choice but to follow. She didn't regain her composure for several minutes. By then, she had to run to catch up to Charles.

"So just how do you know Antony, anyways. You're a fucking pirate," she asked, letting her eyes rake over Charles as she struggled to stay wroth with him.

He really was a magnificent specimen of a man. His hair smelled of the sea with a trace of whiskey and something Adora couldn't quite define, something bittersweet and tangible. She would bet a barrel of her favourite rum that it was soft, though. She allowed herself to be consumed with a sudden fantasy of tangling her fingers in those dark locks while he pounded into her. She was so caught up in her daydream that once again, she missed what was said to her and slammed right into Charles' chest.

He'd obviously stopped short when she wasn't answering him and noticed her distraction. Snatching her wrist, the pirate pulled her into a nearby, dark alley. He twisted her arm painfully and she cried out involuntarily as he yanked her arm up and behind her back.

"You're going to have to find a pair of balls if you want to continue to play in a man's world, Captain. You claim you're as strong as any other man but you show yourself as weak as any other bitch. Panting with lust and unable to pay attention to a single conversation. You'd better get a grip, Adora." Charles Vane looked at her, darkly.

Struggling against the uncomfortable grip, she bit her lip in anger.

"Any other man would be flattered that I was even interested!" She practically yelled at him. She knew she was acting childish.

"Take more of an interest in your affairs and less in me. Save the flattery for your buyers."

With that he released her arm suddenly and left her in the dark alley. She grasped her wrist, wincing at the soreness in her shoulder. She wanted to run after him, yell at him, kiss him, but he was right. Dammit, he was right. She stood very still, drawing in deep breaths despite the stench of the alley; collecting her wits.

Once she was sure she was completely in control once again, she exited the alley with her head held high.

* * *

The meeting went badly. _Somehow_, Vane had swindled the silks contract right out from under her. Sit Antony had practically beamed as he told her. Rather than lose her cool and rail at the two men who had ruined her day and an entire contract, she calmly left the counting house and went straight for the whore house.

First, she searched for Gnarled Lars. She found him at a back table, playing at dice with a gaggle of pirates. By the next round he was at her side, though. If nothing else, her crew was loyal and always ready to help.

"Captain?" he asked.

"We've lost the silks contract. Glad I hadn't told the crew, it was a side venture. But we still need to offload the sugar and spices we have left and get a good price for them. Load the wine, too. Go round up Grimm and Joshua. Then find a Mr. Everlen. Tall man, missing an arm. Bald. He'll probably be lurking down at the docks. I want to meet with him. We have business to attend to," she said ominously.

* * *

The smell of fear mixed with cheap liquor, cunt and dirt. Adora landed her gloved fist into the man's face again, a smile on her own as he groaned and blood dripped from his nose. The whore was crying on the bed, cowering in fear.

"Shut her up, Lars, or I will," Adora growled. She threw the woman a menacing look for good measure, flexing her fist.

Lars walked over to the bed and tossed a silver on to the covers. "Silence or she'll have you in that chair next, girl," he warned in a low voice.

Once the prostitute had stopped sniveling so audibly, Adora turned her attention back to her captive.

"How did Charles Vane steal my silks contract?" she asked again.

Her captive was short, pudgy and his hair was graying. His clothes reeked of alcohol and too much time spent in the brothel. The stubborn man spat at her. Blood and spittle landed on her boot. Lars made to grab at the man, who was tied to a simple wooden chair. Adora held her hand up, a sick smile spreading onto her face. Lars hesitated.

"Ain't tellin' you nuthin', bitch," the pirate said.

Adora pulled a silk scarf from her pocket. It was gray, a watery colour, and soft. Still grinning, she dabbed at the surprised man's face, smearing the blood about.

"Hmmm," she said, lightly, still smiling.

Letting the expensive scarf flutter to the floor, she stepped back slowly, crossing her arms. For a long moment she merely stood looking at him with a smug smile on her face. She could feel his fear intensify, his doubt creep into every inch of his being. When she was satisfied at the sweat pouring off his face and the wide-eyed look of terror, she acted. She swiftly reached out a booted foot, kicking the chair leg out from under the pirate. The chair belted forward from the man's weight. His hands were tied behind his back, so the man had no choice but to allow the fall, trying to turn his face away in time. He let out a muffled cry as his cheek and chest slammed hard into the wooden floor. She could hear the air let out of his lungs and knew it had to be painful.

Adora stepped up to him, pushing his face back with her blood spattered boot.

"Clean it," she growled.

The man was sobbing quietly in pain and fear.

"With...with what?" he asked. "My hands are tied. I can't...I can't reach the scarf," he said miserably.

"Well, then I suppose you'll have to lick it clean, won't you?" she said coldly.

She twisted the heel of her boot against the floor, the tip pressing into the man's face.

"My patience is wearing thin," she said angrily. "I have business to attend to and you've dirtied my boots."

Still sniveling, the man scooted himself and the chair closed to Adora's foot as best as he could. His tongue flicked out hesitantly, blood and mud coating his tongue. He gagged and Adora pushed the tip of her boot into his open mouth to silence him.

After several excruciating minutes, she finally withdrew and nodded to Lars. Her crewman walked over, bending down to pick the man up by his shoulders and haul man and chair back up. The sot was still choking and gasping.

"Thank you, thank you, I'm sorry," he cried. Snot was dripping from his nose.

"Ready to talk now, bastard?" she asked.

"Yes! Yes! Please don't hurt me again. I'm sorry!" The man pulled at his restraints. "Cap'n got the tip from Miss Guthrie back in Nassau. Her dad is movin' back up in the world, seems and so he been helpin' Eleanor again and..."

"Enough!" Adora snarled. Her face was dark and she gripped her dagger hilt.

"Cut him loose," she said to Lars.

"Be sure to tell your Captain not to fuck with my contracts ever again," she began.

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

Adora whirled around at the sound of Charles' voice. She hadn't even heard the door open. Despite her fury, the sound and sight of him instantly aroused her.

Charles was leaning against the doorframe. He had changed since the meeting. A small cigar hung loosely from his lips, smoke swirling around his finely sculpted face. He was wearing a dark blue shirt; open in a V to his waist. A black satin waistband was tied tight over dark leather pants. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Adora put her hands on her hips, trying not to dig her fingers into her sides too hard. She hated how this man could make her react.

"You bastard," she said simply, her voice cracking with anger.

Both the whore and Charles' crewman fled from the room, followed by Lars who looked at her quizzically. She nodded to him.

"Go on. Tell the crew they need to have their asses back on my deck at dawn the day after tomorrow. We set sail with or without them."

Lars nodded at her instructions and shut the door behind him. Adora clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to punch Vane.

"What did I tell you? You don't focus enough on your business affairs. You're so busy trying to prove yourself that you overlook everything else." Charles said, dropping the remainder of the cigar onto the wooden floor and smashing it with the tip of his dark boot.

"And just what the fuck have I overlooked? Other than a liar and a thief," she said hotly.

Charles chuckled again. She hated that she loved the sound of his laugh, even though he was laughing at her.

"You banked on the fact that Antony wants to fuck you for your deal. You didn't bargain, at all. Even though he is a vain man, he's still a businessman. He'll follow the money and not his cock in the end." Charles chastised her in a low, calm voice.

Adora felt her fingers tingle, her face grew hot and uncomfortable. She wasn't used to criticism bothering her. Certainly not from a _man_. The very idea of it disturbed her. She was a captain. Of her own ship. Free of the rule and reins of any man.

"I shouldn't have to bargain. I had a deal with Antony. A legitimate deal, through my father," she spat back at Charles.

She started to shove past him to the door. She'd had enough. He didn't move but caught her wrist. She stopped on her toes, rocking back on her heels. Clenching her fist, she started a smart remark. Charles leaned over; with his free hand he brushed the hair way from her ear, gently; too gently for such rough fingers, such a rough pirate. Adora forced herself not to shudder in delight, held a steel gaze straight ahead at the door.

"Antony made a deal with a pirate, Captain. You're a pirate just like the rest of us. Hot blooded pirate..." he whispered in her ear, before placing one lingering kiss behind her earlobe, on her neck.

"Oh," she uttered before she could stop herself. She felt her tense body unravel the moment his moist, soft lips met her skin. Her eyes snapped shut in pleasure, the spot on her neck was searing hot.

But then he was gone. Adora was left with both burning desire and burning questions no one but she could answer.

* * *

"Go. Get out," she said simply to the shocked man.

She pulled on her clothes, searching for her favourite knife that was never far. The still naked man gaped at her as she tugged on brown pants and her boots before bothering with a shirt.

Huffing in irritation, she stood, looking at him. Her ample, soft breasts poked out of a cream over shirt as she swiftly tied on her belt.

"Don't. You're a decent enough fuck but I'm leaving port. I want you gone."

She had picked this one because he looked nothing like Charles Vane. Short, dark rough skin and bald. Everything Charles wasn't. He smelled of oranges and distant places. Unfamiliar and just enticing enough to satisfy an itch. She had spied the man in the tavern, told him what she wanted and rented a room at the brothel. She hadn't even let him on top. She had ridden her pleasures out on him, ignoring his overly dramatic moans of desire to focus on allowing herself to come. She had; it wasn't exceptional but it was a much-needed release. She'd used him for a day and a night to get her frustrations out of her system before they were to go to sea again. Now she wanted a hot bath and her ship.

The man grumbled as he pulled on his own clothes. Adora pulled open the door and called for one of the serving wenches. She went down to the main room and ordered a hot bath and some food and sent word to Grimm to begin gathering the crew.

As the whore poured the last bucket of hot water into the tub, Adora stripped.

"Can you have these washed, doll?" she asked, stepping gingerly into the scalding water.

"Of course," the girl replied, smiling brightly. Adora tossed her a silver piece from the pocket of the pants she was emptying.

Once the wench was gone, she sank into the steaming water, leaning back against the sheet draped over the wooden tub. She scrubbed herself raw; the steam and the smell of the soap soothed her nerves. They'd gotten a very good price for the last of the spices and sugar and had loaded the Spanish wines with no issues. The crew had enjoyed themselves while in port and as for herself, she hadn't killed or maimed anyone else, nor run into Charles again.

The soap smelled lightly of coconut and _, a flower that was native to the island. It was an intoxicating mixture, sensual and calming. The smell of the flower tickled at Adora's memory. It was just strong enough to be a constant hint. Something...something about a perfume maybe? Crushed flower petals in tiny glass vials, a woman's soft voice, swirling skirts, the sun in her eyes. She tried to grasp the memory as she stood from the tub, rivulets of water coursing down her smooth skin. Either the heat from the water or the exertion from trying to reach for the sudden memory threw her off balance. She stumbled, falling over the side of the wooden tub. She caught herself with her elbow and palm; but not before getting a splinter in the soft center of her flesh.

"Fuck!" she yelled in pain. Water soaked the wooden floor and she was chilled. Cursing again, she fumbled her way to standing and yanked the towel off the bed. Her palm was bleeding; crimson droplets falling to the floor, some of them pooling with the water already there. Grumbling, she tore a small piece of the towel off and wound it around her hand. She could try to remove the splinter later, when she was safely aboard her ship. When she was home.


End file.
